Chapter 21 — The Lantern That Never Goes Out

The last two days before the parade night passed in an unprecedented hustle and bustle. The whole craft village seemed to turn into a miniature construction site, the sounds of sawing, knocking, laughter mixed with calls to each other resounded throughout the small alleys from early morning until late at night. Van Nguyet Workshop, after completing the repair of the leaking roof thanks to the enthusiastic help of a few workers in the city, continued to be the coordination center for all preparation activities.

Uyen Chi, even though her eyes were dark due to lack of sleep for many days, still maintained the clarity necessary to coordinate work between craft households. She created a detailed map for the parade route along the river, divided display locations for each booth, and calculated the timetable for each ritual on the night of the festival, from the moment the sun began to set until the moment the lanterns were dropped into the river to end the program.

"The ceramic workshop will be located in the middle, near the old wharf," she said, pointing to the diagram spread on the table, surrounded by representatives of more than twenty craft households listening attentively. "The bamboo and rattan weaving workshop is located at the beginning, near the entrance gate, so that visitors can visit as soon as they enter the festival area. The lantern parade will depart from the communal house yard, go along the main street, ending at the river wharf for the lantern releasing ceremony."

Everyone nodded in agreement. The atmosphere of preparation was tense but full of excitement, completely different from the gloom that covered the entire village just a few weeks before. Thien Vu, as the media coordinator, was equally busy, constantly contacting press units, reconfirming the guest list, and checking all necessary permits to ensure the event ran smoothly and legally.

"I just confirmed that three local television stations and two major tourism news sites will send reporters to report," he reported at the afternoon meeting, his voice unable to hide his excitement. "In addition, I have also sent private invitations to several famous photographers in the world, they are very interested in the story behind this night of light parade."

"What's the story?" Miss Nham asked, curious.

"The story of artisans who dare to stand up to protect their traditional values against the wave of industrialization," Thien Vu replied, his eyes looking towards Uyen Chi with undisguised pride. "I think, that's what makes our lantern parade night so special, not just a simple lantern display event."

That evening, when the preparation work was temporarily stopped so everyone could rest and gain strength for tomorrow, Uyen Chi took the opportunity to stop by each stall that had almost been set up and check one last time. She stopped in front of the stall of a family that had wavered before, intending to withdraw for fear of Han Phat's influence.

"Are you still fully participating?" she asked, unable to hide her worry.

The husband, a middle-aged man who weaves bamboo and rattan, nodded firmly. "Participate, why not? A few days ago, seeing everyone so determined, I also felt ashamed of my hesitation. The job my grandparents left behind, I can't give up so easily just because of fear."

Uyen Chi felt her heart warm at those sincere words. She realized that the journey over the past few weeks not only helped save Van Nguyet factory, but also aroused a spirit of solidarity and professional pride that had probably been dormant in the hearts of many people in the old town for a long time.

That night, before going home to rest, Uyen Chi and Thien Vu walked together along the riverbank, where the lantern releasing ceremony would take place tomorrow. The river flows quietly under the nearly full moonlight, reflecting the lights from the ancient houses on both banks, creating a heartbreakingly peaceful scene.

"Tomorrow will be a long day," Thien Vu said, holding her hand as they stopped next to a familiar old tree.

"I know," Uyen Chi replied, resting her head lightly on his shoulder, feeling the rare safety and warmth after days of constant stress. "But I believe, all our efforts will be rewarded."

They stood there for a long time, watching the river sparkle in the moonlight, not saying another word, just letting that warm silence fill the space between them. In the distance, the sound of an organ echoed from a small riverside cafe, mixed with the sound of gurgling water, creating a soothing background music for the rare moment of peace before tomorrow's big storm.

"No matter what happens tomorrow," Uyen Chi said, her voice low but full of determination, "I will not regret what I did. At least, we dared to stand up, dared to try, instead of remaining afraid in the dark."

Thien Vu squeezed her hand tighter and nodded in agreement. "Me too. And no matter the outcome, I'm proud to have accompanied you on this journey."

On the way back, they stopped by the courtyard, where a few people still lingered, setting up the last stalls under flashlights. Mr. Bay Tuyen was sitting alone next to the pile of remaining bamboo, his hands still quickly sharpening a few extra slats, in case any lamp needed urgent repair at the last minute.

"Are you still not resting?" Uyen Chi asked, sitting down next to him.

"I'll take the opportunity to make a few spare spokes," Mr. Bay replied, without stopping. "After many years of working in this profession, I understand that no matter how carefully you prepare, there will always be unexpected things that happen. Having a few extra bars on hand will help you avoid panicking if anything happens."

Thien Vu sat down on the other side, looking at the old man's old but still nimble hands with sincere admiration. "How long have you been doing this job?"

"Since the age of twelve," Mr. Bay smiled, his eyes distant and nostalgic. "He learned the trade from his father, his father learned from his grandfather, and it was passed down through the generations. He was not as good as Mrs. Tuyet Nga or Uyen Chi. He only knew how to sharpen bamboo, but he was proud that he had contributed a small part to keep this profession from being interrupted."

"You're not small at all," Uyen Chi said, her voice filled with sincerity. "Without sharpened slats, how could we have such beautiful lamps? Each person in the craft village is an important link, no one is less valuable than anyone else."

Mr. Bay smiled, did not respond verbally, just nodded slightly, his eyes shining with an emotion that was hard to hide. The three people sat together for a while longer under the flickering flashlight, in the quiet space of the communal house, with only the steady sound of sharpening bamboo knives, a simple scene but filled with emotion, like a silent promise that, no matter what tomorrow brings, the people here will always stand together, maintaining the traditional fire that has burned for generations.

Before saying goodbye to leave, Mr. Bay called Uyen Chi over and put a small bundle of bamboo slats into her hand that had been carefully sharpened, so thin and even that it was almost transparent in the moonlight. “I saved this bunch just for you,” he said, his voice deep and warm. "This is the best kind of slat I have, saving it for you to make the last lamp, the lamp you will personally release into the river tomorrow night. I want that lamp to be very special, worthy of being my generation's greeting to Mrs. Tuyet Nga, to all those who have gone before."

Uyen Chi received the bundle of bamboo and was so touched that she couldn't speak. She only bowed her head slightly to thank him. She carefully put the bundle of spokes in the cloth bag she brought with her, telling herself she would spend the entire night, no matter how tired she was, to complete that special lamp before dawn.

Returning to the workshop, even though it was late, Uyen Chi still sat at the table and began weaving the frame for the last lamp using the bundle of spokes given by Mr. Bay. Thien Vu, instead of going back to the motel room to rest, also lingered, sitting next to her, quietly helping with simple steps, occasionally giving her tools when needed, not saying much but his presence was a great source of encouragement to help her overcome the drowsiness that was waiting to come after a long and tiring day.

She decided to design the lamp in the shape of nine lotus petals of the Cuu Lien lamp, but scaled it down to only one third of the original size, so that it could easily float on the river without sinking. Instead of the traditional pink color, she added a little light yellow to each layer of wings, inspired by the color of the morning sunlight mixed with the moonlight at night, as a symbol of the intersection between past and present, between tradition and the new things that are creeping into her life.

"So beautiful," Thien Vu whispered as he saw the first strokes gradually take shape under the oil lamp light. "I have never seen a lamp of such color."

"This is the color I mixed myself," Uyen Chi replied, not taking her eyes off the brush that was moving meticulously on the silk surface. "I want this lamp to have a completely unique mark, not a copy of the Cuu Lien lamp, but a continuation, a way to say that grandmother's legacy does not stop, but continues to grow and change with each generation."

The night gradually passed in that warm silence, with only the sound of the brush gently touching the silk and the steady breathing of the two people working together to create a work with more special meaning than any other lamp they had ever made.